Tomorrow
by Miss-Imagine-Adair
Summary: (Post-"Mutagen Man Unleashed"; Pre-"Mikey Gets Shellacne") On a night when April cannot seem to get her thoughts in order, someone happens to show up. The last person she wants to see, but the person she probably needs the most.


**This is post-"Mutagen Man Unleashed" and pre-"Mikey Gets Shellacne". April and Donatello have gotten quite high up on my list of couples I support, and so after I saw "Mutagen Man Unleashed" I found myself unable to do homework because of my pent-up sadness. This is the result of that sadness. I know after "Target: April O'Neil" things have gotten better, but I thought might as well get this out there anyway because I like the ending. **

**As always, reviews are encouraged. I want to be a better writer so speak your mind!**

**Hope you enjoy! Disclaimer: I do _not_ own TMNT. Sadly.  
**

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**Tomorrow **

_By: Miss-Imagine-Adair_

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Two and a half weeks. Eighteen days. Too many hours. More minutes than April cares to count. Two and a half weeks since she moved back into her aunt's apartment. Two and half weeks since her father turned into a mutant. Two and a half weeks since she told her four best friends she never wanted to see them again. Two and a half weeks since her life took another unexpected turn.

The apartment is empty tonight. April's aunt is away on business. She's been away on business the majority of the two and a half weeks. She was away the majority of the first time April stayed with her when her father was kidnapped, and April liked it like that. Although she loved her aunt dearly, having her awkward presence in the house was not something she looked forward to. Her father's disappearance—whoops, disappearance_s_—April's aunt has been a shifting mass of pent up uncertainty. The first time April came to stay, she tried to pry out the mothering skills she never possessed. That didn't work so well. Asking where April had been every hour of every day at dinner did not gain any results. The middle-aged woman would only listen to half of April's lies before getting a page from work or a text from a colleague about a project. The second time around is easier. The anti-mother hen had learned to let the teenager be, and April learned to feed her aunt little pieces of fake information to help her feel like she isn't failing as a temporary guardian. As long as the house was clean and April's homework was done, things were fine.

For the past hour April had been debated on supper. At first she had decided on take-out. Upon exploration of the take-out menu drawer April realized it wasn't an option anymore. Pizza was not going to happen. What did the guys eat besides pizza? Not much. April loved pizza, but the last thing she wanted was to be reminded of the four she has kicked out of her life. All the other take-out menus were for restaurants April's aunt loved, but April hated. One time her aunt brought home Indian food as a surprise. It tasted fine, but it made the entire apartment smell for days. April also did not feel like going out to eat.

April also turned down going out for supper. Her favorite restaurant, 24/7, run by Mr. Murakami, was no longer an option. She might run into the guys, or Mr. Murakami would ask about them. April no longer has an answer for that question. She thought of calling some of her friends. Her _human_ friends. It _is_ a Friday night. Chances were someone she would know would be at a burger joint and be fine with her tagging along with the group. She even considered inviting Casey Jones. But that was stupid. April only met the guy a few days ago. And she was his tutor. It would be weird. Definitely weird. And yet…April did want to see him again.

April sighed as she flopped down onto the couch. The remote is two feet away on the coffee table, but suddenly the red head had no energy to grab it or desire to watch anything. For a solid fifteen minutes, April stared at the blank television set, brooding.

Dating had never been at the forefront of April's mind. In fact, it might be at the bottom of the heap. What with all the aliens and mutants and ninjas April was surprised she still remembered to do her algebra homework. Casey had come into her life suddenly, and she was…happy. Sure, Casey Jones was a stupid, ragged, egotistical moron, but he was normal. And yeah, he fights bad guys, but he could go out in daylight. He wasn't tied to an alien invasion. He didn't have foot ninja trying to track his every move. To April, that sounded heavenly.

Then, of course, the guys just _had_ to interfere. A giant mutant came screaming her name for no apparent reason. How is that _not_ infuriating? (She kicked the guys out of her life for a reason.) The weirdest (and greatest) part of the ordeal was Casey was _cool_ with it. He treated it like an everyday bust. Who cares if it was a giant mutant? April felt complete relief beneath the stress of nearly being pulled back into the world of strangeness and abnormality.

And April missed the normalcy, even after the abnormality became her new norm. Four _giant, mutant ninja turtles_ who fight _aliens_ and other _mutants_; whose sensei is a huge, well-mannered _rat_ with an arch enemy whose daughter has it out for the guys. And for some reason still unclear to April, she was shoved in the middle of it. Of the chaos, destruction, and danger. And sometimes—the worst days—it drove her so insane she didn't even want to look out her bedroom window for fear something strange and strange would be there waiting.

Even among the anger, the sadness, and the confusion, April…missed them. Not the pandemonium. She missed the _guys._ So_ much_. She missed Michelangelo's upbeat attitude even within dangerous and sometimes dire situations. She missed Raphael's drive to beat those who harm those he cares about (though he might not admit his concern). She missed Leonardo's calm attitude in any situation. She missed Donatello's calculating mind that saved them all on more than one occasion. She even missed their bad habit of coming into her home occasionally at random intervals with something to tell her or to drag her back to the lair to show her something. Their enthusiasm to see her was infectious, and put her in a chipper mood most of the time. Especially when she decided to surprise them and bring down four boxes of pizza and a twelve pack of soda along with a movie and sat down with the four of them surrounding her as they had another one of their famous pizza-and-movie nights. Those nights April remembers most. They were her friends. Her best friends. Easily the greatest friends she ever had.

Wait. Why did she not want to be friends with them again?

Oh yeah. The danger.

But…wasn't it worth it? Weren't _they_ worth it?

April's head began to hurt. For the fifth time in two and a half weeks she felt the need to cry, and not from the knowledge of losing her dad. The tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She blinked rapidly in order to make them go away. Staring at a blank TV screen didn't help anything so the red-head got up and went to her bedroom. It was barely nine, but it was dark outside. April might be able to trick her mind into shutting down for the night. After deciding it was worth a try she quickly changed into her pajamas and began to slowly trudge towards her bed.

On instinct, April's eyes flitted towards her bedroom window across the room. Probably out of habit. That was one of the three prime windows the guys would knock on in order to ask for permission to come inside. For the most part, though, they used one of the other two windows, respecting the privacy of her bedroom. It was her space after all, but they usually came before ten at night which April had declared to be her "alone time" unless planned otherwise or a new danger element developed. It was currently nine o'clock, though, which made April not that surprised when she saw a fairly large figure hovering outside her window, hand poised just in front of the glass pane to tap it for the announcement of a presence nearby.

The figure noticed April's gaze and froze. It was dark out, and April had already turned off her lights, but she knew that silhouette anywhere.

Donatello.

The guys had tried reasoning with her before, but thankfully it died down in the past week. Leo tried talking a couple of times to her through the window, apologizing and saying how if they just figured out the right plan things would get better, but April put in headphones and ignored him. Raph took to threatening, glaring, and sometimes shouting. The one time that happened, April glared right back at him until he slammed his fist into the siding of the apartment building and left. Mikey was the worst. He would sit outside the window and whine. Then beg. Then cry. April couldn't take it. The few times he came she fled to the bathroom, sat on the floor, and cried. She blocked out the pleading voice until it was no more. Knowing Mikey, he didn't give up. One of his brothers must have come by and taken him back to the lair. And Donnie…Donnie made promises to April she knew he might not be able to keep. He would sit outside her window and tell her how he will find a cure, get her father better, protect her from the Kraang, never let Karai get another chance to harm her, and so many others April stopped keeping track.

April didn't want to listen. She wanted to believe, and that's why she had to block him out. Donatello made promises, but April wanted results. She wanted to see the cure he talks about making and see its positive outcome. She wanted the Kraang's way of coming to earth to be destroyed forever. She wanted Shredder to fall off the face of the earth.

She wanted her friends too.

But which did she want more? A normal life or loyal friends?

April felt the tears prick at her eyes again. She turned away and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to create her own comfort she has not felt since her father changed into an oversized bat. But it didn't work. There was no reassurance in her feeble attempt at physical security.

The tapping finally sounded. The promises would soon come. Before they could come and make April explode with pain, she rushed to the window and yanked it open. The surprised turtle on the other side was dumbstruck. His surprise came further when the human teen grabbed his hand and pulled him inside. So surprised he was that he did not dare say anything to set April off, making her kick him out. He waited patiently as April ran a hand through her lose hair. She liked to take her usual ponytail out when she slept. Donatello loved her hair and longed to feel it against his hand, but he did not dare reach out and stroke the red strands as he longed to do. Instead he put his ninja patience to use and waited.

April looked up at the forlorn turtle. She wasn't sure what possessed her to bring him inside. She was still infuriated at him. Them. They ruined her happy life. However, in that ruin, they brought peace and a sense of family April was sometimes sure she would never get back. And she wanted to feel that again. She hasn't felt it in two and a half weeks. She wanted to feel it now.

Donnie was surprised when April opened the window and took him inside. Now he was beyond surprise as she takes his hand and brings him to her bed. She makes him sit down. For a moment she stares him down. Donatello respectfully lowers his gaze. He doesn't deserve to be here. He ruined her life. It's not surprise she is going to give him a lecture.

The lecture never comes. The harsh words and angry threats are never spoken. In its place is a tired sigh. April takes a seat beside Donatello on the bed, close enough that her arm touched his. Then she laid her head on his shoulder with another heavy sigh. The tears began to fall. At first they are few and roll silently down her cheeks. Donnie felt the first fall onto his shoulder. He opened his mouth to say comforting words, but a large, agonized sob interrupted his words. In fact, it stole all the words he could have possibly said that night.

All the tears up until that point were nothing compared to the wretched sobs that shook her body and the heated salty water staining her cheeks right then. It was as if the pain throughout those two and a half weeks accumulated and came forth. And it wouldn't stop. April just cried. And cried. And cried. Onto Donatello's shoulder.

But not for long.

Donatello wrapped his arms around April and pulled her against him. He shifted himself on the bed so he was leaning against its frame and carefully placed April against his plastron. She pressed her face against it and continued to let out the all uncertainty she felt in the past two and a half weeks.

She hadn't decided. She still wasn't sure if she was willing to let the fear and her friends back into her life. They were a package deal, she knew. And she wasn't sure she was willing to pay the price that came with them.

But that was tomorrow's decision.

Tonight she would simply let herself feel the strong arms of one of her best friends hold her together through the hurt.


End file.
